


Ruination

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Fingering, First Time, M/M, PWP, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: "Oh, sweet boy," Peter purrs. He moves in close, puts a hand at the nape of Stiles's neck and whispers in his ear. "I'm going to ruin you."(Day 3 Steter Week 2017 - Smut)





	Ruination

"I can smell how hard you are already," Peter says. His voice is a predator's as he circles around Stiles.

"That's not a thing," Stiles says. He's nervous but he's turned on. He shouldn't let this happen. He shouldn't let Peter in too close. "There's no way-"

"I can hear the blood rushing through your veins. Smell the way you're leaking for me, and I haven't even _touched_ you yet."

They're alone in Peter's apartment, so it's okay. There's no one to hear Peter's words but Stiles, and Stiles… god. He likes them. They make him pant for more and Peter's right, he hasn't touched him. Yet, he said.

"So touch me." He's amazed his voice is so even.

"Oh, sweet boy," Peter purrs. He moves in close, puts a hand at the nape of Stiles's neck and whispers in his ear. "I'm going to ruin you."

"That-" Stiles swallows hard. "I'm not sure I want to be _ruined_ , exactly. What does that even mean?"

And then Peter runs his hand down his chest. It's just over Stiles's shirt, it shouldn't be so hot, but everywhere Peter touches lights up like he's a fucking Christmas tree. Peter's behind him, still whispering. "You smell so sweet, so ripe, like you've just been waiting for me. You have, haven't you?" His thumb unerringly passes over one of Stiles's stiff nipples. "You smell… fresh right now. Ready. By the time I'm done with you you're going to be wrung out from pleasure. And you're going to smell like _mine_."

Stiles is going boneless, relaxing against Peter, letting Peter hold his weight. He knows it's an awful lot of trust to be giving Peter Hale of all people, but Stiles believes every word. Peter's not here to hurt him. He's here to…

"What do you get out of this?" Stiles grumbles, peeved at how easily Peter's gotten him to relent.

Peter slides a hand under Stiles's t-shirt and splays his fingers low on Stiles's stomach. The skin on skin contact makes Stiles moan and forget what he was saying. Now if he could just get Peter's hand to roam a bit lower.

"Haven't you figured it out yet, darling?" Peter asks. "I get what I've always wanted. I get _you_."

Stiles whimpers. He's so close to admitting Peter already has him, but that would be too much. That would give up the game before it's even started.

Peter doesn't shred his clothes or rip them off or any of the things like that Stiles has fantasized about in the past. He undresses him slowly, carefully. Like he's proving how controlled he is. Stiles moves with him, helping, in a daze of lust because Peter takes every opportunity to touch him, especially when new skin is bared.

"You're lovely," Peter says. "Supple and ripe as a peach." One of his hands smooths down Stiles's back and over the swell of his ass. 

Stiles can only think of how peaches bruise and how he wants Peter to mark him. He shivers at the gentle touches and craves more.

Peter moves until they're face to face. Stiles sucks in a sudden breath at the brightness of Peter's eyes, glowing blue. His control is good, though. Stiles hasn't seen a hint of fang yet.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed.

"And you're still dressed." Stiles doesn't pout but it's a very near thing.

Peter smiles, all white teeth and promise. "I wanted to unwrap my present first." Without looking down, his hand wraps around Stiles's very hard cock. 

Stiles gasps but he can't help the snark. "Your present? That's so cliché."

"You're giving yourself to me, sweetheart. What else would you call it?" Peter rumbles. He looks amused. It's hard to come back with another comment because Peter thumbs over his cock head, slippery with precome. Stiles sucks in a breath and his hips jerk.

"I knew you'd be a greedy boy," Peter whispers. Stiles groans and now he can't pull his gaze away from Peter's sinful lips. Peter wets them with a flick of his tongue and then grins. "If you want something, all you have to do is ask."

"Just kiss me, asshole," Stiles says, voice weaker and more needy than it should be.

Peter doesn't tease him for it, though. He kisses Stiles like he's been holding back, like he wants it as much as Stiles. He kisses thoroughly, deep and demanding, and it makes pleasure zip down Stiles's spine, swoop in his stomach, tingle in his balls. He doesn't even care now that he's completely bare and Peter's fully clothed. He doesn't care that this is Peter anymore, because of course it's Peter, the only one who really understands him, who can get under his skin and make him burn with desire.

Stiles finds himself clawing at Peter's shoulders, tugging at his shirt, wanting it _off off off_.

Maybe he says it out loud between gasping breaths, because Peter actually pulls back enough to pull the henley off over his head. Then there's hot skin over hard muscle and Stiles can't get enough of touching him. Peter makes a pleased, rumbling sound that's closer to animal than human. It makes Stiles shiver and his desire thickens. 

"You smell so good," Peter tells him. "So needy, and I'm the only one who can make it better. Do you want me to fuck you, Stiles? Are you aching for it yet?"

As soon as Peter says it, Stiles feels it. Yes, he's aching. He wants so much it hurts. His cock throbs but the rest of his body clenches up and asks him for more.

"I haven't- I don't-" Stiles manages to stutter out.

"You're a virgin," Peter purrs.

Stiles's brain goes blank for a moment. Then, "No, I've- I just haven't ever…. like this." He knows he's making little sense, but Peter understands. He knows he does. Peter always understands.

"But you want it?" Peter asks. His voice is more even now, and Stiles realizes he's asking for explicit consent. 

Stiles has to kiss him for that. It's quick and full of affection, of gratitude. "I want you to fuck me, Peter. I want you to be the first one to… to fuck me."

Peter pulls back and searches his face. Then he smiles, his eyes still supernaturally bright but clear, too. And his smile is genuine, not a hint of artifice to it. This is Peter without the masks, without the overlay of smarm. "Thank you."

Then Peter picks him up and Stiles has to wrap his legs around his waist. He gasps at the sudden show of strength, the way Peter manhandles him onto his bed. It seems Peter is everywhere, touching him all over and settling on top of him. His pants are gone and Stiles doesn't remember when that happened, but now Peter's cock is pressing insistently against Stiles's thigh.

"If you want me to stop at any time, just let me know," Peter says. 

Stiles believes him. "Okay, but… I won't. I want this."

Peter kisses his throat and Stiles tilts his head back, baring more. Peter growls then, low and pleased. "Say it again. Tell me you want… me."

The last word is different and Stiles instinctively understands. "Yes. I do, Peter. I want you. _You_."

Peter bites down on Stiles's shoulder, not hard and with blunt teeth, but it's enough to make Stiles cry out and clutch at Peter's shoulders. He wants him so much. He wants everything Peter can give him.

"Condom?" Peter asks, and the offer makes Stiles melt a little more. He knows Peter won't want one.

"I want you to mark me every way you can," Stiles whispers. He feels his cheeks grow hot at the thought. Thinks about being messy with Peter's come. He wants that. Wants to feel it, to smell like Peter. Like he belongs to him.

"Oh, sweet boy. I could never deserve you."

Stiles clutches at him but doesn't know how to answer that.

Peter's hands roam over Stiles's body, firm and possessive. "You know I'm greedy. I won't stop with just one night. I'll want this all the time." Then he bites down again, this time right over Stiles's pounding heart. "But I'll make sure you want it, too."

"Go ahead, then," Stiles says with a smirk. "Ruin me for everyone else."

Peter's eyes light with the challenge. "Roll over."

Stiles obeys without thinking, without wondering, and then clutches at his pillow when Peter spreads his cheeks apart. His face is flaming. He rests his cheek against the cool pillow, trying to relax. 

"You have the prettiest little hole," Peter says, and it makes Stiles moan with both anticipation and embarrassment. "I'm going to make it mine."

Then Peter licks him and Stiles babbles something, groans it into the pillow, and he doesn't know what he's saying only that it feels so incredible, so hot. Wet and hot and perfect, but Stiles still feels so empty, like there's more, and he knows there's more…

Peter gentles him. "Shh, darling, I know what you need."

"Please," Stiles chokes out.

"As much as I'd love to open you up on my cock, I don't think that's a good idea for your first time," Peter murmurs. He sounds apologetic. But then there's something slick circling his hole and Peter slowly pushes lube and his finger inside, rendering Stiles into a gasping mess. And that's one finger. How much better will Peter's cock feel?

"Please," Stiles says again, begging but not really knowing now what he's asking for besides more.

"Oh, you're perfect," Peter says. "You're tight, but you want more, don't you? You want me to stretch you so I can slide right in, fill you up…"

"Yes!" Stiles says, unashamed now, pushing back on Peter's finger.

"Oh, darling. So greedy. I'm going to turn you into my little slut, always begging me for my cock, always wanting to be filled."

"Peter." Stiles sobs the name, and Peter gives him another finger, twisting and pushing in and sending pleasure up and down Stiles's spine with a press against his prostate.

"There you go," Peter says. "I'll always give you what you need, sweetheart."

Stiles whines and pushes back, squeezing around Peter's fingers and then relaxing, taking them deeper. He wants more, wants to feel himself being stuffed full. He wants it all and he wants it right now. His cock drags against the sheets, leaking precum everywhere. 

"You're so wet," Peter says. "I can smell it. I love that you're leaking on my bed, spreading your scent everywhere. I can't wait to come inside you." He adds another finger and more lube, and everything is slick and tight and sensitive. "You're perfect for me, opening up for me like this, making a space for me to crawl right inside and never leave."

Stiles cries out at that because yes, yes he wants that. He wants Peter all over his skin and under it and inside him, filling him full.

"Up on your knees, baby."

Again, Stiles obeys without thinking. He's so in tune with Peter now, knows both of them need this just as much.

Peter leans over and kisses Stiles's back. Nibbles along his spine. Stiles whines, feeling empty now that Peter's fingers are gone.

When one of Peter's hands settle on Stiles's hip, he feels the prick of claws. He wants it like that. Wild. Primal. Animal.

He wants Peter as rough or as gentle as he can be. He wants _Peter_.

"Fuck me," Stiles begs.

"Yes," Peter growls, and pushes in, stretching Stiles and filling him up just the way he craves. He gives him just a moment to adjust, and then he starts fucking him in earnest. Long, deep thrusts at first, like Peter's trying to climb inside him. Stiles cries out; it's almost too much. It almost hurts, it's just on the verge of pain. But it's perfect. Perfect. "Just the way you need it."

Stiles can't answer, he's too overwhelmed. And still he craves more. Peter growls and fucks him harder, slap-slapping their bodies together. Stiles gasps and sobs out his pleasure when Peter's cock finds his prostate, nailing it with every thrust.

" _Stiles_ ," Peter says, slurred through fangs.

And it's almost, almost enough to make him orgasm. Then Peter's hand wraps around his dick and gives it a couple pumps and he's there.

"Good for me, so-" Peter half-chokes as he follows.

They collapse against each other, Peter pulling Stiles into his arms, and Stiles pillows his head on Peter's heaving chest. They're both panting, but once they get their breath back, the first thing Stiles can say is, "Awesome."

"Quite." Peter chuckles. Stiles can't help but giggle a little. He feels stupid with it, sloppy and satisfied. 

He's never felt this good in his life. If this is what it means to be ruined, he'll be happily ruined anytime.


End file.
